


Early Morning

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Banter, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Hmm :D, Hope's Peak Academy AU, Hugs, Kisses, Non-Binary Rantaro Amami, Non-Despair AU, Rantaro gives people fruit nicknames, Returning from a trip, Tooth Rotting Fluff, as per Story's headcanon, healthy relationship, i write these fics so often that i forget to add the tags ahfjkd, light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: The air always smells so much cleaner at six in the morning during her walk from the dorms to the main building. It’s still crisp and chilly, even on the balmy summer days, and there’s a slight breeze lifting her hair that never fails to bring a smile to her face. In the middle of the afternoon, the air can sometimes move so slowly it feels almost sticky. Stagnant, old, gross. In the morning, though, with morning dew dripping off the tips of leaves and pooling in the palms of her gloves… it feels fresh in a way that’s hard to think about for the rest of the day.She also just enjoys the quiet.---Kirumi hangs around outside to greet her partner as they return home from a trip.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Toujo Kirumi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Early Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Storyflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyflight/gifts).



> i wrote this one for story, the other person i had for the secret santa. they immediately knew it was me though lol am i that transparent
> 
> anyway amatoujo is good food

Early morning is the best time of day.

The biggest reason is that usually there is nobody else awake, and so Kirumi gets time to herself, but it’s not the  _ only _ reason. If she wanted to be alone, at any time, she could quietly ask Tenko to do her a favour, and the aikido master would make everyone else back off. Besides, there are other moments that she can spend by herself. People don’t like doing the work that she does; all the cooking and cleaning, doing the laundry and making sure that every space at the academy is immaculate as often as possible. Whenever she’s doing maid work, she tends to do it on her lonesome, and she doesn’t mind that at all. She likes solitude, and the repetitive motion of cleaning helps her to gather her thoughts in an environment where she feels safe.

She stays up really late a lot too, finishing up chores or fulfilling requests, and so she ends up by herself on the other side of the night as well, and she still doesn’t like it was much as she likes early morning. Kirumi doesn’t have much of a vendetta against late night- it’s, well, it’s fine, and there’s something nice about it too, in a way. The biggest downside to staying up late is probably how fuzzy and thick her brain always feels afterwards as a result of the sleep deprivation. She doesn’t notice it so much nowadays because she stays up late semi-frequently completing tasks, but she much prefers the early mornings.

The air always smells so much cleaner at six in the morning during her walk from the dorms to the main building. It’s still crisp and chilly, even on the balmy summer days, and there’s a slight breeze lifting her hair that never fails to bring a smile to her face. In the middle of the afternoon, the air can sometimes move so slowly it feels almost sticky. Stagnant, old, gross. In the morning, though, with morning dew dripping off the tips of leaves and pooling in the palms of her gloves… it feels fresh in a way that’s hard to think about for the rest of the day.

She also just enjoys the quiet. There’s something about the tranquility of early morning that is unmatched at night. Silence at night is deafening, haunting, in a way that is impossible to articulate. Mornings are peaceful, and the pretty silences that accompany them carry a tune. It’s the kind of music that’s best enjoyed alone.

This morning in particular, however, Kirumi lingers outside a bit longer than she would ordinarily. It’s a Sunday, which means no classes, but usually she would find tasks to fill the day with regardless. She doesn’t ever like to remain idle for too long; she gets a bit fidgety, to be honest. It’s like if she has nothing to do with her hands, she gets this weird, cramped feeling in her legs, and then she absolutely has to get up and clean something, even if she’s already scrubbed it down many times over. It’s an annoying tendency to be sure but not too egregious in a maid, because it keeps her working in times when she would be procrastinating.

(Though, with cleaning, it’s easy to feel like she’s procrastinating even when she’s not, because so much of it is relying on muscle memory while her brain wanders off to completely different places, and then all of a sudden the floor is shiny and clean and she’s created a whole storyline in her head entirely unrelated to the task. It’s definitely not a habit she dislikes, because it passes the time, but sometimes it can be infuriating because she never knows whether or not she made small mistakes while spacing out.)

She has things to do today, but for the past hour or so since waking up, she’s been furiously shuffling them around in her brain in an attempt to postpone them until later. She wouldn’t usually, because it’s most responsible to get everything done right away- and because she will surely have more tasks lined up later- but she… stays outside anyway, even going so far as to seat herself on one of the cold metal benches underneath a particularly tall deciduous tree as she waits.

Kirumi likes Sundays. Not because she doesn’t have classes, but rather because they have a slow, right-before-the-beginning feeling to them that is difficult to put into words. She likes days that are lowkey, and aside from Tuesdays, Sundays are the days that best fit the bill. (Besides, Kirumi isn’t going to be a huge fan of such an awkward day as a Tuesday.) Everyone seems a bit tired, but a good kind of tired. More like a  _ sleepy  _ than a  _ lethargic.  _ She likes the conversations that come up on Sundays, too. Even the more rowdy of her classmates, like Kokichi and Miu, have settled down enough to have good conversations with her on days like these, which is never to be expected, from them.

She’s a huge fan of  _ this  _ Sunday in particular for an entirely different reason, though. And when Kirumi lifts her head, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, she thinks that she’s spotted that reason as they enter the front gates. She considers staying where she is for a moment, wondering if it would be undignified to get to her feet and launch herself into their arms, but on second thought…

Rantaro has seen her in much less dignified positions before. With that in mind, Kirumi pops up onto her feet and takes several great strides over to throw her arms around their shoulders. (Rantaro catches her, obviously, but with a quiet  _ oomph,  _ and they drop their suitcase in doing so.) In a moment, Kirumi will apologise for the lack of warning, and help them carry their things inside, but for now she tucks her nose into their shoulder and inhales the smell of their perfume, comforted by the feeling of their arms sliding around her waist.

They travel far too much. Actually, that’s a bit of a mean thing to say; she saw them only a week ago, but still. It’s really not enough exposure to her partner to get her Rantaro-quota filled. They’re back from Austria today, and if Kirumi really focuses, she can smell just the slightest bit of the plastic-y seats of the plane still lingering on their shirt. She feels their hum in her own chest, pressed against theirs, and in return smiles against their neck, reluctant to pull away just yet when she feels like she hasn’t been hugged by them in so long.

Teasingly, Rantaro muses, “What would Ouma say if he saw his mother turning into putty like this? He might be horrified,” and that’s enough to make Kirumi pull out of the embrace, though she lets her hands rest of their shoulders, because she’s still drinking in the sight of them. She heard it in their voice, but predictably, their lips are quirked into an (annoyingly) attractive half-smirk that she really can’t make herself be angry at.

“We’ve been over this,” Kirumi chastises, and if she were the type to partake in play violence- which she’s not; in fact she’s quite against it, especially as it pertains to romantic relationships, but that’s far from the point- she would swat their shoulder right about now. As things are, she reaches up to cup the side of their face, tracing the spot under their eye and retracting her hand before they can lean into her touch. The pout she gets in response makes her laugh slightly. Rantaro really is like a dog sometimes. “I’m not his mother. Or,” she adds testily. “Anybody’s mother.”

“Not yet,” Rantaro replies.

“You,” Kirumi bites her lip and pretends that the response isn’t making her want to devolve into a blushing mess. “Smooth bastard.”

“Mm.” Rantaro leans forward to knock their forehead against hers. They’re such a cocky jerk, they’re only an inch taller than her, and yet they’re making a huge show of leaning  _ forward  _ to gaze into her eyes. Another unfair thing: their eyes. Usually Kirumi is comfortable enough that when they pull the smolder she can just laugh it off, but after not seeing them for a week, she’s… admittedly a bit touch starved. And it’s easy to forget, sometimes, in the way that pictures on her phone can’t retain, the exact shade of green that their eyes take on in the morning light. It’s not any one shade, which she thinks might be the reason why she feels so out of breath looking at them. Still, they’re doing this on purpose and it makes her either want to lecture them or kiss the living daylights out of them. (She hasn’t quite decided upon which.) “You’re beautiful,” they murmur, and Kirumi thinks that they might be on the same wavelength.

“I am flattered that you would say so,” she responds automatically. It’s her default response for whenever a client or a friend tries to hit on her and she’s plainly not interested, and obviously this doesn’t reply to Rantaro, but the laugh that she gets in return makes it totally worth it. “And you should speak for yourself,” she continues, to lessen the bluntness of her former statement. Kirumi cards her fingers through their hair and wonders how they manage to keep it so soft when they’re always out doing dangerous things. (A topic of constant discontentment between them, but they’re working on it.) “It is my humble opinion that you are the prettiest person at this school.”

“Prettier than Blueberry, even?” Pouts Rantaro, and Kirumi huffs out a laugh. “I’m serious, I know that he doesn’t wear makeup but I find myself wondering often if his eyelashes are even real or if he wears fake ones. He could have fooled me.”

“That would mean a lot of dedication to tricking all of us,” Kirumi remarks, brushing loose pieces of hair out of their eyes. “Because it’s Saihara’s  _ lower  _ lashes that are that long.”

“Yeah, that would mean a lot of lash glue wasted.” Rantaro frowns, in the way that they do when they’re thinking, and Kirumi finds herself wanting to reach up and smooth out each individual wrinkle from their forehead until they’re smiling and blinking at her in that innocent, confused way they do every time she puts her hands anywhere on them. It’s amazing how presumptuous and yet how innocent Rantaro can be all in one breath. “But Blueberry is an extremely determined person, so maybe he would. I’m not personally ruling anything out until I get real scientific proof that his eyelashes are-”   
  


Rantaro stops talking when Kirumi kisses them. (A normal reaction.) She doesn’t like cutting people off with kisses- she thinks it’s rude, and she always wants to hear what Rantaro has to say- but the urge has been getting closer and closer to overwhelming her the longer that they’ve been standing here, and she finds herself reluctant to hold it back when they’re literally standing right here. One of their hands returns to her back, bracing her weight against their torso, but the other molds itself against her face, fingers tangling in the roots of her hair in a way that sends shivers down her back.

It’s not possible that Rantaro could be  _ conscious  _ of the way that they affect her, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to. The way that they act is entirely natural, and that’s probably the biggest reason why Kirumi is so fond of them.

She pulls away from the kiss before she really needs to take a breath, wiping some lingering traces of black lipstick from the curve of their upper lip and smiling at the look on their face. Sometimes when Kirumi gets up in her feelings, she finds herself wondering if someone like Rantaro could ever possibly love her. How organic it really is, considering that they’re so genuinely and truly wonderful. But when they look at her like that… she knows for a fact that their emotions are one hundred percent genuine.

“What does your day look like?” They ask, moving their hand from her face to her shoulder. It’s early in the day, and physically Kirumi is actually feeling rather well, but when they start to massage out the knots in her shoulder, she finds herself unable to complain. “I grabbed a couple things for you in Austria that I’d love to give to you if you’ve got a moment.”

And realistically Kirumi knows it would probably be a good idea if she asked Rantaro to take a rain check, because they’re going to be here tonight when she’s finished, and she should honestly just get all her tasks out of the way now so that she has plenty of time for leisure with her partner later. That would be the most efficient use of her time. Think smarter, not harder, and all. Unfortunately, as much as Kirumi likes to pretend that she isn’t, she’s at the mercy of her impulses the majority of the time, and right now is one of those moments.

So she gives Rantaro a small smile and leans into their touch, nodding her head.

  
“My morning is yours, to do with as you please.” She tells them, and the beam she gets in response makes all the fast work she’ll have to do later ten times more worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> owo nb rantaro hcs make me soft
> 
> this fic makes me soft Actually
> 
> uhh idk what else to say i should've posted this earlier but yknow it be like that sometimes
> 
> i might finish my momoharu tonight but we'll see. (i haven't even started on the update for the best lies yet so :E)
> 
> bye


End file.
